


i know you (once upon a dream)

by NicoAndTheNineGalaxies



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: ? - Freeform, ?? - Freeform, Angst, Anxiety, Childhood Trauma, Disney, Dogs, Dreams, Falling In Love, Fate, Fate & Destiny, First Kiss, Fluff, Found Family, Happy Ending, Holidays, Hot Chocolate, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Kissing, Love, M/M, Minor Character Death, Panic Attacks, Present Tense, Recovery, Sleeping Beauty - Freeform, Soulmates, Supernatural Elements, Swordfighting, Touch-Starved, Trauma, YOU CAN RIP THAT TROPE FROM MY COLD DEAD HANDS, a dog!!, but you may have guessed that, i gave patton and logan a dog because i LOVE THEM, i mean does it count if it's a figment of someone's imagination as a manifestation of their trauma??, it's how virgil handles anxiety he learned it from patton, look at the title what else do you expect, oh yeah also, so much recovery ugh i'm proud of them, the angst is mostly in the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28765929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicoAndTheNineGalaxies/pseuds/NicoAndTheNineGalaxies
Summary: In which Virgil has issues, and then he has weird dreams, and things spiral from there.Or, in other words, Roman and Virgil meet through dreams and they both start learning how to heal.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, they're just all really gay okay
Comments: 14
Kudos: 62





	i know you (once upon a dream)

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic is oddly important to me. I started it back in October because I had horrific writer's block for all my other projects (yay trauma!) and I essentially used it to vent and then abandoned it for about three months. I came back to it a few days ago and finished it a lot quicker than I expected, and I'm hoping to work on some other stuff now that I've finished this fic in particular.
> 
> Check the tags for trigger warnings - none of the abuse is in detail, and there's only a brief scene that depicts the sexual assault (again, not detailed, but it's there), but please do be careful and take care of yourself. They get a happy ending, I promise.
> 
> Anyway. I've barely been writing and it took a lot out of me to do this again, but I'm happy with what I got out of it. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Nico xoxo

“Do I know you?”

Virgil turns around. He’s having trouble figuring out where he is, exactly. It looks like a forest he used to know and it looks like nighttime, but trees don’t usually glow like that, do they? Like there’s hundreds of fireflies lining the branches, like the leaves themselves are luminescent?

The person behind him looks familiar. Brown eyes, freckles, dyed red hair, a slight blush across his cheekbones. But if they’ve met, Virgil can’t put a name to the face.

“No. I don’t think so.”

He frowns. “That’s weird. It feels like…like I’ve seen you before.”

“Well, it also feels like we’re in a forest, but it’s glowing, so…”

“Good point.” He holds out a hand, which Virgil just raises an eyebrow at rather than shaking. “I’m Roman.”

“Virgil.”

“Any clue where we are?” Roman asks, spinning slowly on his heel. When he faces Virgil again, there’s a sword in his hand, and he nearly hits Virgil with it.

“Careful!” Virgil snaps, jumping backward.

Roman looks just as surprised, if not more so. “You know, I’m beginning to think this might be a dream.”

“Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Was that sarcasm?”

Virgil just rolls his eyes.

“So what’s going on here?” Roman asks. “Where are we? Why do I have a sword?”

“I...I think we’re in the forest behind my old house,” Virgil says slowly. “But - why? I mean, I hated this place.”

“Why’d you hate it?” Roman asks, though he’s turned around and he’s swinging at the leaves above his head with his sword, trying to cut them down from their branches.

Virgil opens his mouth to say something, but voices behind him make him freeze.

Roman drops the sword, peering curiously through the foliage. “Who’s that?”

“Run,” Virgil says stiffly, though he doesn’t know why. If this is a dream, then Roman has to be some creation of his subconscious, right? Why would he need protecting?

“What?”

“Just run!” The voices are getting closer. Roman’s eyes lock on Virgil’s.

“Not until you tell me who we’re running from.”

“Virgil,” one of the voices calls, lilting and playful. The others laugh.

“I’m not leaving you here alone,” Roman insists.

There’s a chasm opening in the ground behind Roman. Virgil offers him a sad, almost sympathetic smile. “Yes,” he says quietly. “You are.”

He pushes Roman - though the contact feels no more substantial than pushing his hands against tissue paper, and he assumes that’s because it’s a dream - watching him stumble and fall, and watches the ground close up behind him.

About a week later, Virgil knows it’s a dream as soon as he sees Roman in front of him. They’re somewhere else this time - it looks like an attic, if Virgil had to guess. There’s fairy lights strung up on the low ceiling and one corner is strewn with blankets and pillows in various pastel colors. An open laptop is propped on one pillow,  _ Snow White _ playing silently on the screen. Roman is kneeling by a small bookshelf filled with picture books, sifting through the titles one-by-one.

“Hi,” Virgil whispers, though he’s not sure why he’s whispering. It just feels like the right thing to do.

Roman glances over his shoulder and grins. “Hey.” He’s whispering, too.

“Where are we?”

“My old attic. I’d hide up here with my brother when…” His grin falters. “When our parents were fighting. I learned pretty early on to stay out of the way if I don’t want to get hurt.”

As if on cue, there’s a shout from beneath them. Roman flinches, but then he turns back to the bookshelf, pulling out a book and laying it in his lap.  _ The Giving Tree. _

“Have you read this one?”

Virgil nods. “I never got the point.”

“No, neither did I,” Roman agrees. “I mean, that’s not love, is it? When someone keeps asking you for more and more of yourself and never gives you anything in return? Why was the tree so happy? It just kept getting hurt.”

Virgil tries to place a hand on Roman’s shoulder, but his hand slips right through.  _ Dreams, _ he muses,  _ never quite make sense. _

“Hey, didn’t you push me into a bottomless pit last time I saw you?” Roman whispers after a moment.

Virgil’s face flushes. “I told you to run and you didn’t; what else was I supposed to do?”

“Not push me down a bottomless pit?” Roman suggests with a grin. Virgil hides a laugh behind his hand. “Come on, Doom and Gloom. I want to watch Snow White.” He stands and beckons for Virgil to follow him over to the corner, pushing a few pillows against the wall and spreading the blankets across the ground. Then he grabs another blanket and throws it over both of them. Virgil thinks their hands brush when they sit side by side, but the touch is light and the dream casts uncertainty over whether it was there at all, so he ignores it.

“Okay, but what normal person comes across a girl in the woods in a glass coffin and decides, ‘Oh, yeah, I’m going to kiss this attractive corpse?’”

Roman scoffs. “I’ll give you that, but that’s not the point of the movie! It’s about found family and true love!”

“She runs away from her evil stepmother to become a housekeeper for seven men,” Virgil points out dryly.

“Yeah, but…” Roman sighs. “It’s just a good movie, alright?”

“Of course it’s a good movie. I’m just saying it’s a  _ weird _ kind of good.”

“I guess I can agree with that.”

Virgil glances at the laptop. The movie must’ve ended while they were talking. The near-silence begins to weigh heavily on them.

“...They’re still fighting, aren’t they?”

If Virgil strains his ears, he can make out the voices beneath them, harsh and angry despite the low volume. “Yeah.”

“Could I have a hug?” Roman asks, sounding small.

Virgil sighs. “Look.” He places a hand over Roman’s, but just like earlier, his hand slips right through to the ground.

Roman’s face falls. “But - but this is a dream. I don’t - “

Virgil never gets to hear the end of that sentence, because he’s already awake.

The next few weeks, Virgil doesn’t dream.

He does, however, see Roman’s face everywhere he goes - walking down the other side of the street, in the cereal aisle at the grocery store (he buys Lucky Charms, apparently), even in the line at Starbucks, of all places. None of it is real, of course, but every time Virgil thinks he catches a glimpse of this odd creation of his subconscious mind, it makes him feel a little less lonely, like there’s someone out there who really does see him.

The next time he dreams, though, is so much worse.

The forest is dark this time, and the laughter is echoing, and everywhere. Roman is nowhere in sight.

The next part, he’s lived before.

Those boys, the ones from school, the ones whose names he never learned, send in  _ him. _ Virgil wants to fight back, and he tries to at first, but after what feels like an eternity of a harsh hand on his jaw and bruising kisses against his lips, he closes his eyes, and he stops fighting.

Another eternity later, he’s alone, sitting on the forest floor, leaning against a tree. The laughing has stopped and the hands are gone and he’s not sure if he’s crying because his vision blurs but he feels nothing.

Nothing at all.

And most nights after that, he finds himself right there in that godforsaken forest where he can’t remember how to breathe.

It’s hell.

It takes Roman two weeks to find him.

Virgil has no idea how long he’s been sitting there in the dark. It could have been ten minutes or ten years in the context of the dream, but either way, it’s the first friendly voice he’s heard in these dreams in over a month.

“Virgil?”

He looks up, and sure enough, it’s Roman. But Virgil know’s he’s a mess because he knows what he looked like after; eyeliner tracing smudged tracks down his cheeks, the beginnings of fingerprint bruises on his jaw and his wrists, his bottom lip torn and bleeding. So Virgil closes his eyes and looks away.

“Hey, no. Look at me, please?”

Virgil does. He can feel a headache starting behind his eyes, but he opens them anyway.

Roman, sitting beside him, smiles, though there’s concern in his gaze. “There you are,” he says softly. “Are you okay?”

Virgil offers him nothing more than a half-hearted shrug. “Where have you been?” He asks instead.

Roman sighs. “My house. The attic, mostly.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.”

“Don’t be. I...I don’t want to pry, but I can tell something’s wrong, and - ”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Virgil interrupts.

“Okay,” Roman says, his tone gentle. “That’s fine. Do you want me to stay?”

Thunder rumbles in the distance and Virgil runs his tongue over his split lip. “It’s going to start raining.”

“I don’t mind,” Roman assures him, and then Virgil is waking in his own bed with an ache in his chest that makes it hard to breathe, and  _ god, _ he’s never felt more lonely.

The next night, Virgil finds himself in Roman’s attic. Roman is buried in the pile of blankets and pillows in the corner and Virgil can faintly hear a musical number that he recognizes from  _ Tangled _ from the laptop in front of him.  _ The Giving Tree _ is open on the floor by the bookshelf, and the room is dark.

“Are you watching Tangled?” Virgil whispers, sitting cross-legged beside Roman, who nods.

“It was my favorite when I was little.”

“I had the biggest crush on Eugene,” Virgil admits.

Roman grins, and Virgil finds that he’s happy to see it. “Didn’t we all?”

“You’re not wrong.”

“Honestly, though, I always wanted to be like Eugene. He was so confident and brave and his life was so full of adventure...and he found true love, too. I wanted a life like that.”

“Why can’t you have it?” Virgil asks.

“Are you kidding?” Roman scoffs. “I’m not confident or brave. I’ve never had any adventure. I’ve never even been in love.”

“Neither have I,” Virgil cuts in. “I didn’t see the point for a long time. I mean, to fall in love you need to be the right person and be in the right place at the right time, but it only takes a few mistakes for everything to go to shit.”

“Have you ever met anyone that made you want to risk it?”

Virgil bites his lip, hesitating. “Maybe. I’m not sure yet. But...maybe.”

The sound of shouting drifts up to them from downstairs. Roman flinches.

Virgil looks around and spots a pair of headphones - they’re just like the ones he has in real life, noise canceling and all - and connects them to the computer, passing them to Roman.

“But you won’t be able to hear the movie,” Roman protests.

“Then put the subtitles on. I’ve seen it before, and you need the distraction more than I do.”

So Roman slips the headphones over his ears and turns the subtitles on, and they get halfway through the movie before Virgil wakes up.

_ virgil: hey, j _

_ virgil: you know about dreams and shit like that, right? _

_ Janus: A bit. What do you need? _

_ virgil: is there anything unusual in dreaming about the same person, who you’ve never met and might not even exist, over and over? _

_ Janus: I’m sure it can happen. I don’t think your brain can create faces, though, so you’d have to have seen them before _

_ Janus: How many times have you had a dream like that? _

_ virgil: only a few. it’s probably nothing, but you know me, always overthinking _

_ Janus: I’m sure _

_ Janus: Well, sometimes you believe you’re overthinking when really, other people are underthinking _

_ virgil: whatever you say. _

_ virgil: i’m just going to forget about it. sorry _

_ Janus: Don’t apologize for seeking a second opinion. I’ll let you know if you’re ever out of line _

_ virgil: ...thanks, jan _

_ Janus: Don’t call me Jan _

After his talk with Janus, Virgil doesn’t dream for another week, and he hates it. He hates the thought of Roman alone in that attic with his parents yelling downstairs, hates the thought of him alone in that forest, just...hates it all.

And as far as Virgil knows, Roman isn’t even real.

Great.

The next time Virgil dreams, though, he ends up in the forest again, and it’s all lit up, and Roman is there, slicing at an imaginary enemy with his sword. He only notices Virgil when he has to redirect his sword so as not to accidentally cut his head off. “Oh, hi! It’s been a while.”

Virgil offers him a thin-lipped smile. “Yeah. I haven’t been dreaming.”

Roman tilts his head to the side, scanning Virgil’s face. “Well, you’re here now. Do you have a sword?”

Virgil shakes his head. Roman spins around on his heel and then reaches up and pulls a second sword out of the tree beside him. When Virgil gives him a questioning look, he just shrugs. “Dreams never make sense. Just take it, come on.”

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” Virgil asks suspiciously, though he takes the sword anyway.

“Not really. I’ve done stage fighting, if that counts.”

“Okay,” Virgil says, taking a few steps until he’s standing across from Roman, sword held tightly in his hand. “Teach me, then.”

The grin on Roman’s face is well worth it, and Virgil finds that he laughs more in one dream than he has in the past month, despite the fact that when they decide they’re tired, all he wants is to sit under one of the trees and lean into Roman’s side, let Roman put an arm around his shoulders, but he can’t.

He doesn’t laugh next time, yet another week later, because next time, the boys are back.

Virgil can’t see them, but he  _ knows _ they’re around, because he’s always had a habit of knowing more than he realistically should in dreams. Roman isn’t there, and that might just be the worst part. The forest is safer and brighter when Roman is beside him, but there is no sense of safety and there’s barely enough light to see the trees around him.

Virgil’s already shaking as he resigns himself to a night of paranoia, but he knows somehow that he can’t stay in one place. He has to move, so he does, but he can’t see where he’s going, and he keeps stumbling over roots and rocks, and it looks as if there’s been a storm, with tree limbs strewn across the forest floor. It’s dead silent aside from his own breathing, until it isn’t.

He hears quick footsteps behind him and he closes his eyes. Maybe he can wake up before anyone gets to him, or maybe he  _ could _ if he could just focus, but it’s hard to focus when suddenly there’s a familiar voice behind him, shouting his name.

Virgil turns around just in time to see a blade collide with the face he’s had memorized since he was fifteen, but instead of blood, he just explodes in a sharp burst of dark smoke.

Roman drops his sword, breathing heavily as if he’s just run a mile. “What the fuck,” he says weakly.

A breathy laugh escapes Virgil’s throat. “You - you just - “

“I’m...not sure what I did,” Roman cuts in, looking down at his hands. “Who was that? Was he real? Did I kill him? Why was he following you?”

Virgil sighs. “This’ll be a long dream if I try to answer everything.”

“I don’t mind,” Roman says, that soft tone in his voice that Virgil has come to associate with comfort. After a long, long moment, Virgil gestures for Roman to sit down with him.

“I didn’t know his name,” he begins. “I met him when I was a freshman in high school. I didn’t really have any friends, but I didn’t mind, because I was just trying to get through school and get out. But when you don’t have friends, kids get cruel, I guess.

“Him and his friends were the worst ones. I used to come back here just to get away from everything. It was my safe haven.” His jaw clenches. “But I guess they were in the neighborhood, and they thought it’d be funny if that guy...if he kissed me. And, uh, touched me and stuff. Even though I told him not to.” He flashes Roman a bitter smile, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Real funny, right?”

Roman shakes his head. “No, it’s not funny. Virgil, that’s terrible.”

“Do you remember, um, about a week ago, when you found me here?”

Virgil can see the realization in Roman’s eyes as it hits him. “Oh, god. It was him, wasn’t it?”

He doesn’t have to reply, because they both know the answer. “I think...you didn’t really kill him, because this is a dream. You attacked the version of him that I have in my head, but he’s going to come back, because he always does. Six years of therapy and I’m still having nightmares about that asshole and his friends.”

“That’s okay,” Roman says. “Look, I’m not going anywhere as long as I can help it, alright? I’ll do it again, if I have to.”

Virgil isn’t sure how long they sit there in silence, but the next thing he sees is his bedroom ceiling, and then he’s cursing whatever force of the universe decided that these dreams would be a good idea.

The silence continues in Virgil’s next dream. He’s sitting in the same spot in the dark forest. After a while, Roman sits beside him and smiles, and that’s where they stay until Roman points up, above the trees. “Look,” he says softly. “The sun’s rising.”

Virgil follows his gaze, and he’s right. The sky is turning the soft pink of the early morning, and there’s an ending looming on the horizon, so he turns his attention to Roman instead. “I don’t think I’m going to dream about you again.”

Roman looks down with a bittersweet smile. “I think you’re right.”

Virgil risks a glance upward. The sky keeps getting lighter, relentlessly. “I wish I could hold your hand.”

“I do, too.”

He swallows hard against the lump in his throat. “I wish you were real.”

“I am, though,” Roman says, his brow furrowing. “I’m Roman Prince. I’m twenty-two and I live in New York City. I thought you weren’t real.”

Virgil shakes his head. “I’m Virgil Sanders. I’m twenty-one and I live in New York, too.”

“You could find me,” Roman realizes, hope creeping into his tone. “Or I could find you.”

“How? New York’s not a small place, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Roman’s face falls. “I...I don’t know.”

The sun breaks through the leaves and Virgil wakes up in an empty bed.

It’s been one week.

Virgil has been scanning every face in every crowd, looking for anyone that seems familiar, and he’s seen nothing. He’s still hopeful, though, because he’s never had dreams so vivid and there’s a little voice in his head that keeps insisting Roman is out there.

So he hopes.

After two weeks of searching, Virgil is getting tired.

He’s still found nothing and no one. He’d feel silly talking to Janus now that this seems to be more than just a dream, so he keeps quiet. It’s not as if he’s given up yet, but he’s never been good at optimism, and at the end of most days, he just wants to go to sleep.

But, as they say, the third time - the third week, in this case - is the charm.

It’s the stupidest way they could meet. It’s raining and Virgil is on the phone with Janus, who’s trying to plan something for his six-month anniversary, as he’s walking home. Virgil is pulling his jacket tighter around himself and trying to hurry, because the wind is picking up, too, and he really doesn’t want to get caught in a storm, and then he feels someone bump into him.

Virgil doesn’t even look up, just mumbles a, “Watch where you’re going.” Then there’s a hand closing around his wrist and he’s halfway to a panic attack until he turns around and sees a very familiar face.

“Uh, Janus, I’m going to have to call you back,” he says quickly into the phone, hanging up before Janus can say anything.

“You’re real,” Roman says, his grip on Virgil’s wrist lessening when he realizes that Virgil isn’t about to bolt.

“So are you,” Virgil replies.

“Oh, shit, it’s pouring, come here,” Roman murmurs, tangling his fingers with Virgil’s and tugging him closer so they can both stand under his red umbrella. There’s not much space, and they’re practically nose-to-nose.

“Hi,” Virgil whispers.

“Hi,” Roman answers with a grin.

For a long moment, they just stand there, looking at each other. Then Virgil looks down at their intertwined hands and his breath catches. This isn’t a dream. He isn’t going to wake up alone. Roman isn’t going to disappear.

They’re holding hands. Roman is warm and in front of him and undeniably  _ real. _

The sound of a car’s horn honking somewhere down the street brings Virgil back to the present. “We should, um, go? Just somewhere else, I don’t know. I mean - “ He gestures vaguely with his free hand, not quite able to find the words.

“Yeah, of course,” Roman agrees quickly. “But I - you’re not leaving, are you?”

Virgil shakes his head adamantly. “Not if you don’t want me to. Um, my apartment is a block away, if you want to...talk,” he finishes, somewhat awkwardly.

“Yes,” Roman agrees. “I’d like that. Very much.”

Roman doesn’t let go of Virgil’s hand.

When they reach his apartment, Virgil unlocks the door and holds it open for Roman.

“Thanks,” Roman says softly, untying his shoes and leaving them by the door.

“Do you want anything to drink? I, uh, I was going to make hot chocolate.”

“That would be nice, thank you.”

Virgil nods, not entirely sure what the protocol is for a situation like this, and leads Roman into the kitchen, pouring some milk into a saucepan over the stove.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Roman admits with a chuckle.

“Oh, thank god. Neither do I.”

All of a sudden, they’re both laughing and Virgil isn’t quite sure why.

“But really, where do we go from here? I mean, I feel like we skipped the first ten steps of this sort of thing and we already covered the childhood trauma section.”

Virgil smiles to himself as he pulls a whisk out of a drawer beside the stove. “Makes things easier, though, doesn’t it?”

“In some ways, yeah,” Roman agrees. He doesn’t speak for a while, but Virgil doesn’t mind waiting; he just busies himself with finishing the hot chocolate. “But I...I want to know  _ you, _ like, everything. Not just the trauma parts.”

Virgil passes Roman a mug, leaning against the counter and looking at him over the rim of his own. “Well...we have time for that, don’t we?”

A slow, soft grin spreads across Roman’s face. “Oh. We do.”

Virgil drinks his hot chocolate a little too fast, burning his tongue in the process, but he ignores the sting and sets his mug down. “Can I just - “ He reaches out an uncertain hand and Roman just seems to  _ know, _ setting his own mug on the counter and taking Virgil’s hand, and it’s nothing monumental, it’s just their palms pressed together and Roman’s fingers slotted into the spaces between Virgil’s, but the contact feels electric to Virgil and he exhales shakily, blinking back the tears that have no business being in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Roman asks, taking a step forward and brushing a thumb across Virgil’s cheekbone, achingly gentle.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Virgil manages to say with a watery laugh. “I’m - I’m so confused.”

“About what?”

“About this?” Virgil says, though it comes out as more of a question than a statement. “About the dreams, about why they stopped, about why we couldn’t touch, about why it’s hitting me so hard now that we can. I don’t know. About...about all these feelings.”

“What kind of feelings?” Roman asks, his hand still resting on the side of Virgil’s face.

Virgil allows himself a moment to close his eyes and savor the touch. “I barely even know you. It’s so stupid.”

“The first dream was three months ago,” Roman points out. “We’ve had debates about Disney movies, talked about love, had shitty sword fights in the woods...I know we technically met today, but I feel like I’ve known you for a long time.”

Virgil nods slowly. It takes a moment before Roman speaks.

“I need to know that I haven’t misread things,” he says haltingly. “Please, just...tell me if I’ve imagined this, and I’ll go.”

Before his hesitance and anxiety can get the better of him, Virgil presses his lips to Roman’s, chaste and sweet and gentler than he thought a kiss could be.

“You haven’t misread anything.”

Four months pass by relatively easily.

Yes, they bicker - usually over simple things, like what to have for dinner or what movie to see - but, Virgil supposes, the honeymoon period tends to be like that.

Their first genuine argument, though, isn’t so easy.

“Ro, I just - you knew this was important to me. You said you’d be there.”

“I know, Virgil, and I’m so,  _ so _ sorry. Rehearsal wasn’t supposed to run so long,” Roman says, his brow furrowed and his gaze guilty.

“I didn’t even want to do the stupid open mic night!” Virgil protests.

“You could’ve said no, then,” Roman points out.

Virgil sighs, blinking back tears. “I was going to, but you were so damn sweet and encouraging that I told Janus I’d do it because you’d be there, and then - “ His voice breaks. “You weren’t even fucking there!”

He doesn’t mean to raise his voice, but it happens anyway, and Roman - 

Roman flinches. Like he’s expecting to be hit.

Virgil’s pain, so easily misconstrued as anger, fades away into concern as he takes a step forward. “Ro…”

“I’m sorry,” Roman interrupts, his breathing shaky and shallow. “I’m fine, I promise, just please don’t - please don’t yell.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Virgil replies. “It’s not your fault rehearsal ran long. I got anxious and I lashed out and that’s not right. But Roman, I’m  _ never _ going to hurt you, okay?”

Roman nods.

“Can I - ?” Virgil holds out a hand and Roman takes it, letting Virgil pull him into a warm embrace. “Breathe, Ro. You’re safe.”

He hears Roman inhale, feels his hands shaking, hears the subtle catch of a sob in his throat.

“I really am sorry I wasn’t there,” Roman says after a moment.

“There’s always next time,” Virgil assures him, and when Roman pulls away from the hug, Virgil just offers him a smile and asks if he wants hot chocolate, and it takes a while, but eventually, he knows they’ll be okay.

Three months after that is their next real obstacle to overcome.

They’re at Roman’s apartment this time, a Disney movie forgotten in the background, and they’re kissing. It’s nothing new; they kiss often. As greetings, goodbyes, comfort, sometimes for no reason at all. There’s rarely any intention behind it, but it’s been seven months since they met - ten if they count the dreams - and sometimes Virgil wonders if there should be. He’s fine with kissing, more than fine with it, but the longer it goes on, the more time he has to get caught up in his thoughts.

“You alright, Doom and Gloom?” Roman murmurs, pulling away for a moment.

Virgil hesitates, but nods, pressing his lips to Roman’s again before his panic can catch up with him.

_ I’m fine. This is Roman. I can do this, _ Virgil thinks, though he isn’t quite sure what “this” is.

He manages to set aside his racing heartbeat, the dizziness that’s crept up on him, but one of Roman’s hands drifts to the back of his head, tangling in Virgil’s hair, and it feels like he’s trapped and he’s  _ suffocating _ and he  _ can’t fucking breathe. _

Virgil gets his hands on Roman’s shoulders and pushes him away, feeling nauseous. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out, breathless, eyes squeezed shut.

“Hey, no need to be sorry,” Roman says, voice gentle. There’s no hint of anger or frustration in his tone, like Virgil had feared there might be. He just sounds...concerned. “Where’s your mind at right now?”

Virgil shakes his head - he still can’t breathe, like his lungs are filled with lead, and he’s scared to talk through what feels like thorns in his throat.

“Okay, later, then. Let’s just breathe, alright? Deep breaths.”

Virgil tries, and it hurts, but at least there’s air in his lungs.

“Good,” Roman says, encouraging as ever. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s okay. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, I won’t even hold your hand unless you ask, but I’d like to help you if I can. Is that okay?”

Virgil takes another painful breath and whispers, “Please stay.”

“I will, Virge, I promise. Whatever you need.”

True to his word, Roman stays by Virgil’s side until he’s breathing more evenly, until the tension in his shoulders has mostly dissipated. He reaches blindly for Roman’s hand and then finally opens his eyes.

“There you are,” Roman says, all sad eyes and a gentle smile, an echo of the last time he found Virgil this vulnerable. “Feeling better?”

“A little,” Virgil replies, his voice hoarse.

“Want to tell me where you went just then?”

Virgil shrinks in on himself, shoulders hunched, picking at a loose thread on his jeans. “The forest.”

There’s no surprise in Roman’s gaze, just understanding. “Do you know what triggered it?”

Virgil nods despite his reluctance. “The...the kissing. It was nice, honestly, just...a little much.”

“You don’t have to explain,” Roman assures him. “All I ask is that you try to tell me when you’re feeling that way.”

“I will,” Virgil promises. “Thank you for staying. You really didn’t have to.”

Roman offers him a puzzled smile. “Surely you know by now that I love you?”

Virgil’s eyes widen. “No...no, I didn’t know that, Princey, I’m not a psychic.”

“Well, you do now,” Roman says, laughing, though he seems embarrassed. “I love you. And that means I’m staying as long as you want me.”

“You know I feel the same, right?” Virgil adds softly, avoiding Roman’s gaze.

“I didn’t know,” Roman admits. “But I’d hoped.”

The holiday season creeps up on them, and before Virgil really realizes it, his father is calling him to ask about his holiday plans.

It’s more of a formality than anything else. Virgil rarely has a reason to stay in the city, and Janus’s family had never been ideal, so it became their tradition to drive to Virgil’s parents’ house for Christmas and New Year’s.

“Hey, Pa,” Virgil says, pausing the show he and Roman had been watching.

“Virgil,” his father says, voice warm. “Are you and Janus coming home for Christmas?”

“Yeah, of course. I think Janus wanted to bring his boyfriend this year, is that okay?”

“I suppose your dad would say ‘the more, the merrier,’ wouldn’t he?” Pa asks with a sigh, though he sounds more fond than his words would betray.

Virgil grins, glancing at Roman, who’s watching him with a small smile of his own. “Hold on, Pa. I’ll be right back.” He mutes his side of the call and leans into Roman’s side and the arm resting around his shoulders. “I, um...I know you don’t speak with your family,” he begins quietly, “but if I asked, I think my dads would be happy to have you.”

Roman’s smile melts into an almost indecipherable look of surprise. “Really?”

Virgil nods. “I’m sure of it. If you want, obviously.”

“I’d love that,” Roman admits, a bit teary-eyed, leaning his head against Virgil’s shoulder.

Virgil unmutes the call. “Um, there’s someone I’d like to bring, too.”

“Really?” His father asks. “Who?”

“His name is Roman,” Virgil says, squeezing Roman’s hand. “You guys are going to love him.”

“Giving your boyfriend the front seat, Virgil? How biased of you.”

Virgil grins at Janus, grabbing Roman’s hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Just get in, asshole,” he says before rolling up his window. He watches in the rearview mirror as Janus puts a suitcase in the trunk, hearing one of the car doors open at the same time and looking over his shoulder to offer the newcomer a smile. “Hey, Remus, right? It’s great to finally meet you, since  _ someone _ doesn’t tell me shit,” he says, looking pointedly at Janus. “I’m Virgil.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Remus chirps.

Virgil glances at Roman, only to see that the blood has drained from his face, his eyes wide. “...Remus?”

“Do you know him?” Virgil asks as Janus opens the other door, getting in the car.

“It’s not a very common name, is it?” Roman counters.

“Holy shit,” Virgil hears Remus whisper from the backseat. “Roman?”

“I tried to call you,” Roman says softly. “You changed your number after you left, didn’t you?”

“Like you didn’t,” Remus replies, though he’s clearly grinning. “It’s good to see you again.”

Virgil exchanges a slightly bewildered glance with Janus before Roman squeezes his hand, getting his attention. “My brother.”

“Oh,” Virgil breathes. “Ro, I’m so happy for you.”

Roman is smiling, almost to himself. “Let’s go. I want to meet your dads.”

Pulling into the driveway of his childhood home always feels right.

Virgil’s dad is waiting on the front porch, practically vibrating with obvious excitement. Janus is the first out of the car, and by extension, the first one to be wrapped up in a hug.

Roman takes a deep breath, his hand resting on the door handle.

“Nervous, Princey?”

“Can you blame me?” He asks.

Virgil rolls his eyes, but they both know he isn’t annoyed. “My dad’s going to claim you as his son-in-law as soon as you get out of the car, and I’ll let you in on a secret - my pa loves poetry. You could recite Shakespeare in your sleep. You literally couldn’t be more perfect.”

With that, Roman and Virgil get out of the car, and Virgil’s dad is next to them in an instant, pulling Virgil into a hug so tight he nearly loses his balance. “Virgil! I missed you!”

“You see me all the time, Dad,” Virgil says, chuckling.

“Oh, hush, video calls don’t count. And you two are…” He points first to Remus, then Roman. “Extremely similar.”

“We’re twins,” Roman explains. “He’s Remus, I’m Roman.”

“So you’re who Virgil’s been talking about! It’s nice to put a face to the name.”

“I don’t talk about him that much,” Virgil protests, his face flushing.

“I think it’s sweet,” Roman says, draping an arm across Virgil’s shoulders. “And, uh, it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Sanders.”

“Kiddo, you’re an adult and you’re practically family. Call me Patton.”

A slow smile spreads across Roman’s face as he ducks his head. “Patton, then.”

A small black dog, curly-furred and barking, sprints out the open door, hardly slowing down until she reaches Virgil’s feet. He crouches down to scratch behind her ears, laughing. “Hey, Lucy. How’ve you been?”

“I’m sorry, dearest. I tried to keep her inside, but she wanted to see her favorite people.”

Virgil looks up at the sound of his father’s voice, scooping Lucy up in his arms and standing to greet him. “Hi, Pa. This is Roman, and I think Remus already went inside with Janus.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Roman. I’m Logan.”

“Likewise,” Roman replies, shaking Logan’s hand before turning his attention to the dog in Virgil’s arms. “You said her name is Lucy?”

“Yep,” Virgil says, biting back a grin as Lucy licks Roman’s hand enthusiastically. “Dad tried to get a cat, but he’s allergic, so Pa had to stop him.”

“They’re cute, okay?” Patton cuts in, practically pouting. “I like their little noses!”

“What, and you don’t like Lucy’s?” Virgil teases, setting her down and watching her run to the porch before turning back to look at them expectantly.

“I never said that!”

Virgil rolls his eyes, grabbing his suitcase from the car and taking Roman’s hand, pulling him toward the front door. “Come on, Princey. Let’s get settled in before Pa can burn the house down trying to bake bread.”

“That was one time!” Logan calls after them, but Patton just laughs.

Virgil knows it’s going to be a good week.

They settle into each other’s lives so seamlessly that it really does feel like they’ve known each other forever. It fits, really - Roman needed a family and he finds one in Virgil’s, whereas Virgil needed someone he felt comfortable being vulnerable around, and he finds it in Roman. Neither of them thinks to ask about the circumstances of their meeting until years later, watching  _ Sleeping Beauty _ on a Saturday night, Virgil’s head on Roman’s chest and Roman holding him close.

“Hey, Ro?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever think about how we met?”

For a moment, Roman looks confused, but then his eyes light up. “The dreams, you mean? Not often, at least not anymore.”

“It never made sense to me,” Virgil admits. “I never really believed in anything supernatural, but…”

“Do you know what I think?” Roman asks after a moment. “I think we were supposed to meet.” He must see Virgil’s skeptical expression, because he continues hurriedly. “Hear me out! You said, in one of the dreams, that you have to be the right person in the right place at the right time to fall in love, right? And they all happened in places from our childhoods. We’ve been the right people, and we’ve been in the same area, but we just couldn’t get the timing right, you know? So I think the universe just said, ‘Fuck it, these idiots are taking too long, I’m stepping in.’” He looks at Virgil, eyebrows raised, as if to say,  _ See? _

“That’s your theory?  _ That’s _ what you’re going with?”

“Unless you’ve got a better one, my chemically-imbalanced romance.”

Virgil just grins and shakes his head, pressing a kiss to Roman’s cheek. “In that case, I’m with the universe on this one.”

Roman looks puzzled, and Virgil has to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

“What took you so long, idiot?”


End file.
